Griselda had not the least idea what the figures or steps were, but it did not matter.

If she did not know, her shoes or something about her did; for she got on famously.

The music was lovely--"so the mandarins can't be deaf, though they are dumb," thought Griselda, "which is one good thing about them." The king seemed to enjoy it as much as she did, though he never smiled or laughed; any one could have seen he liked it by the way he whirled and twirled himself about.
And between the figures, when they stopped to rest for a little, Griselda got on very well too.

There was no conversation, or rather, if there was, it was all nodding.
So Griselda nodded too, and though she did not know what her nods meant, the king seemed to understand and be quite pleased; and when they had nodded enough, the music struck up again, and off they set, harder than before.
And every now and then tiny little mandariny boys appeared with trays filled with the most delicious fruits and sweetmeats.

Griselda was not a greedy child, but for once in her life she really _did_ feel rather so.
I cannot possibly describe these delicious things; just think of whatever in all your life was the most "lovely" thing you ever eat, and you may be sure they tasted like that.